


Vriska: Wake up.

by PhoenixAccio



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Medical Inaccuracies, Neighbors, POV Vriska Serket, Vriska Serket's Metal Arm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 09:58:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixAccio/pseuds/PhoenixAccio
Summary: Taking place immediately after Paradox Space comic Vrisky Business.Equius gives Vriska... a hand... ha ha I'm so funny





	Vriska: Wake up.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah I totally bullshitted how prosthetics work but they're aliens so it's ok right

The first thing you see when you regain consciousness is an unfamiliar ceiling. For just a minute, you're confused about why you're waking up on a table rather than suspended in sopor in your hive. That is, until your pan catches up and the pain crashes back down on you. Oh, right.

You already know what happened, but you look over (you have to turn your head to make up for the lack of a fucking eye on that side, thanks for that, Terezi, you massive bitch) to assess the situation with your other arm, or lack of one.

What you see next is... better... than what you were expecting. What it used to be like, from what you saw of it when you'd inspected it pre-neighbourly visit, was to say the least significantly messier than it is now. It seems that the wound has been cleaned and sutured up, the singed fabric of your jacket meticulously picked out of the burns covering your new arm-stump. You reach up to your face with your intact arm, to palpate the zone where your eye was, but all you get is the brush of bandages over your face, wrapped around your head to cover the wound. You suppose this sorta makes you even with Terezi? Maybe she'll try and blow out your other eye next. You think that might make meeting spidermom's... needs... slightly more difficult. You hope Terezi doesn't do that.

Groaning and gritting your teeth, you roll over. You should probably get off this table soon, so that Equius or his fucking lusus or something doesn't see you sprawled out on the furniture like a sopor-drunk wiggler. You ignore the rush of dizziness that accompanies your return to vertical life. You're fucking fine, goddamnit. This is nothing!

Your head snaps around when you hear the door open, and you spin to face whoever just came in.

Equius is standing in the doorway, looking, uh, moist, as usual.

"I see you are awake. Neighbour," the indigo-blooded troll greets awkwardly. God, when is he not awkward? You snort to yourself. Ugh.

"I hope you deem my stitchwork satisfactory," he says. "Not that you would have any place to express a differing opinion."

"It's fine," you say. You really don't care about sweaty highbloods' stitchwork or whatever. "Where did you even put me? This place looks like somewhere you'd take your kismesis during drone season."

"It is my... workshop," Equius responds. He's sweating, but that's not exactly a departure for him. You roll your eyes. Eye.

"Great, that explains everything." Impatiently, you tap your fingers against your thigh, exactly sixty-four times. Equius is just standing in the doorway still and it's getting weird.

"Did you come down here for a reason? I do have a life outside of your weird spades-dungeon, you know."

"Oh! Right!" Equius shakes his head, the movement tossing his oily hair. "Follow me."

You shrug, and follow the other troll out of the room.

-

The room you and Equius stop in has robots and robot parts covering every surface. There's a pile of wrecked fight-bots in a corner, and several pieces of sheet metal against the wall. A large desk on the other side of the room displays an array of tools and unfinished droids. Soggy towels litter the floor. Equius leads you across, unbothered as you pick your way through the scattered scraps of soaked fabric, to stand in front of the workbench.

Equius bends over, picking up a few tools and something long and shiny.

"Sit down," he tells you, pushing toward you the chair from his desk.

Hesitantly, you sit down, you guess? The chair is a little wet. Ew.

Equius approaches you once you're seated, and holds up the shiny thing from earlier, so you can see it.

"You seemed like you were trying to appear subtle about this, but it was very clear you visited my hive with intent to have me curate a new arm for you, which you intended to do in the most cryptic way possible."

It's an arm. Well would you look at that.

"Whaaaaaaaat?" you ask sarcastically, dragging out the a. "Wherever did you get the idea that I wanted an arm? This is just a nice _neighbourly_ visit!"

Equius raises his eyebrows, and turns to leave the room, waving the prosthetic at you over his shoulder as he speaks.

"Well, if you do not want it, I suppose I don't _have_ to give it to you, _neighbour."_

At that, you dash across the room, stopping Equius psychically to get yourself between him and the door, You lean up so that your face is in his face. "I think you'll be giving me the arm!" you frantically snap.

Equius looks down at you, still frozen in place.

"I certainly cannot give you much of anything if you insist on holding me still like this."

"Fine, alright, no need to get pissy," you reply, releasing the indigoblood from your mind's grasp.

"Thank you."

Equius follows you as you stalk back to the chair he had placed you in, and drape yourself across it, waiting.

The larger troll bends over, apparently checking over the prosthetic one final time, then detatches a smaller piece from the rest of the arm. He turns and looks over to you.

"Arm," he says, glancing pointedly at what's left (ha) of your left arm in a way that clearly means he wants you to hold it out for him.

You let out an annoyed huff of air and hold out your arm stump.

"This will definitely hurt," Equius says, sliding the metal base onto your arm. It's glovelike and strangely spiky, made of metal with a spiralling thread around the top like a screw. It's cold against your damaged skin when Equius slides it onto the remaining limb. Huh. You don't _feel_ hurt.

Suddenly, the needles around the outside of the prosthetic unexpectedly shoot inwards, stabbing into your arm. You cry out, jerking away from Equius as your right arm flies up towards the stump on the other side, now encased in a layer of metal.

"I did warn you that it would hurt," Equius tells you, in response to your scandalized glare. He reaches behind him and grabs the rest of the arm.

"Is this gonna hurt too?" you ask, annoyed.

"Yes," Equius says, and twists the prosthetic onto the metal dock. There's a feeling like an electric shock as the arm clicks into place. It's uncomfortable, sure, but it hurts less than the first half.

"Try to move it." Equius orders.

You flex your new metal fingers, and are pleased to see them move at your command. At this success, you bend your arm at the elbow, curling your fingers into a fist. The arm works perfectly.

You look away from your new limb to see Equius, looking satisfied with his work.

"It will do," you tell him, and look away.

After a few seconds, you reluctantly speak again.

"Thank you. Equius," you say, sour and stilted, as if the words hurt on their way out. They very nearly do.

"It is no trouble," Equius replies, formal in tone. "It was the least I could do... neighbour."

God, that troll is weird.


End file.
